


The Perfect Gift

by KarlyAnne



Series: Tumblr Gift Ficlets [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Adorable Sherlock, Crack, Established Relationship, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Ficlet, Fluff and Crack, Gift Fic, Gift Giving, Humor, John Loves Sherlock, Love, M/M, One Shot, Prompt Fic, Romance, Sexual Humor, Sherlock Loves John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-12
Updated: 2015-09-12
Packaged: 2018-04-20 11:00:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4784879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KarlyAnne/pseuds/KarlyAnne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John manages to articulate an “I…” and gets a bit stuck there.</p>
<p>Sherlock scowls.</p>
<p>“Don’t you like it?”</p>
<p>“Of… Of course I do! I do. What… exactly, is it…?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Perfect Gift

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MinMu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MinMu/gifts).



> MinMu's prompt was “the perfect gift.” 
> 
> Hope you like the cracky direction it took, MinMu! Any and all feedback welcome.
> 
> This ficlet was approved by [CWB](http://archiveofourown.org/users/cwb/pseuds/cwb), and received a second beta from the lovely [PurpleHairedTree](http://archiveofourown.org/users/PurpleHairedTree).
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> P.S. Johnlockandwifi, your gift ficlet is on the way.

 

John lets out an emphatic sigh and hangs his coat.

The last six patients were a test, carefully designed to try his patience.

There was the teenager who could not fathom she’s pregnant, the senior citizen who thought she might be, the retired accountant who swore he had “no idea how it got in there.” Right after, a young man came in and sneezed into John’s mouth, a hysterical newlywed relayed his _too much glue_ pejazzling accident, and a construction worker hopped in on his break, and smelled so ripe, that John had resolved to burn his clothes when he got home.

He walks, mission oriented, straight to the kettle, exhales as the water starts responding.

As John is making tea, a dressing-gown clad Sherlock appears and starts teetering around him. This is not unusual, but indicative of the detective having something on his mind.

He turns, pecks Sherlock on the lips, takes the milk from the fridge, and makes a contented hmm as it mixes into his tea.

“Had a good day, love? Solved that case with the dancing ant-eater?”

John grabs the paper, turns around, makes to take a sip, but stops with his teacup mid-way to his mouth.

He coughs once, makes an aborted nasal sound.

Sherlock, whose dressing gown magically vanished, looks down at himself, then back at John with a “Well?” expression on his face.

John manages to articulate an “I…” and gets a bit stuck there.

Sherlock scowls.

“Don’t you like it?”

“Of… Of course I do! I do. What… exactly, is it…?”

Sherlock gives him a look of _Why am I still surprised at the extent of your denseness_.

“Your initials, John. JW, I’d expect you to know them. Well, to be fair, it should’ve been JHW, but there wasn’t enough room.”

“What’s… What’s above them?”

“Rod of Asclepius. You know, many confuse this symbol with the caduceus, which is actually the symbol for commerce, not medicine. This mistake is especially common in the United States.”

“Sherlock.”

“I thought the rod should be above the letters since there’s already a rod under them… Yes?”

“I’m not saying this is not great, it is, love, just fantastic. But, out of curiosity, why did you decide to landscape your pubic hair in this particular fashion…?”

Sherlock looks down, shuffling his big toe in front of him.

“The other day…”

“The other day?”

“Yes.”

“A little help here, love.”

“You said, ‘Come here, love, it’s time for your Friday night blowjob.’”

“You don’t like ‘Friday night blowjob’?”

“Of course I like ‘Friday night blowjob’!”

“Afraid I’m still not getting this, Sherlock.”

Sherlock is pacing and gesticulating now, a sure sign of frustration.

“It’s the fact that we have a ‘Friday night blowjob’! You’ll… You’re going to eventually…” Sherlock drops his shoulders and looks up, dejected. “You’ll get bored.”

“Bored?”

Sherlock nods.

“With you?”

Another firm nod.

“How on earth, could I possibly get bored with you?”

“Our sex seems to have slipped into… routine.”

“Sherlock, I’ve never had this much sex in my life, including college. We try something new at least twice a week… locations, positions… and, and the toys… Last week everybody at the surgery kept asking me if I’d hurt my back, because I walked so funny.

“But all this doesn’t matter, Sherlock, even if we were stranded on a deserted island with no props and only engaged in the most vanilla sex humanly possible, it wouldn’t matter. Because it’s you. The toys, the acrobatics, are nice. But never feel like you need to engage in gift-giving, to keep me from getting bored. I have you, yeah? There’s very little else I want beyond that, some tea and no bloody carcasses in the shower. You’ll always be just what I want."

He stands chest to chest with Sherlock, gathers him close with one hand, tilts his chin with the other.

“You put some real effort into this. Let’s take a look.”

John steps back, crouches and settles on his knees in front of Sherlock.

“My initials, you say.”

“Well, it was supposed to be. Pubic hair growth is apparently not entirely homogeneous in distribution over this area.”

“Well, the result is very… artful, love.”

John grabs Sherlock by the thighs, kisses the dubious letters and stands up.

“Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

“Bedroom. I would very much like to thank you properly, for this gift. And who knows? Maybe start a new tradition. Have you heard about pejazzling?”


End file.
